Dual Trigger Reunione dei Giorni: Valentine
by Chronic Guardian
Summary: "But if ever the pieces are scattered, it is theorized they will attempt to come together once more, to enact a reunion of the body." A Dual Trigger tri-shot Holiday piece about the Vincent/Aria fratello and those that call them family. Might contain slight Zerith, but only lightly, considering their age. Still in progress.
1. The Place I'll Return to Someday

**Dual Trigger**

-By Chronic Guardian-

**Reunione dei Giorni: Valentine, Chapter 1**

Sephiroth Valentine, age seven-and-three-quarters, rarely saw either of his parents. Given that both worked for a shadowy counter terrorism organization, some would say that wasn't surprising. His mother, Doctor Lucrecia Crescent Valentine, was at the forefront of experimental medical technology and his father, Vincent Valentine, was a field agent. Frankly, it was a wonder his grandfather, Doctor Grimoire Valentine, a professor at the Third Univeristy of Rome, natural science department, had the time to care for him. Of course, Grandpa Grim didn't do it alone, he also hired the neighbor's boy, Zack from time to time.

Currently hanging a line of tinsel while precariously balancing on one foot on top of a stepping stool, Zack steadied himself with one hand and motioned for Sephiroth to feed him more of the shaggy, shimmering chord. Sephiroth nodded dutifully and obliged, lifting more out of one of the attic boxes they'd brought down that afternoon.

Zack was fun. People often told Sephiroth he was lucky to have such a rich and prestigious heritage, but he more often counted himself lucky to have a friend like the wild, raven haired boy who tried everything from climbing up the side of the house to building indoor furniture obstacle courses. Of course, the early teen was responsible when it came down to it, but to the casual eye, young Sephiroth was more fit to be watching Zack than the other way around.

As if in concurrence with the thought, the old wooden step stool wiggled under the older boy's sock before tipping to the side and depositing him on the living room floor with a thud. Rubbing his side, Zack grunted and got back up. The older boy didn't cry; never when he was hurt, anyway. Some movies could accomplish the deed, but Sephiroth chose to overlook that.

"Guess it wasn't meant to all be in one trip, huh?" Zack wheezed, still getting air back into his lungs as he studied the expanse he'd been trying to span with a single position. In all honesty it was surprising he'd gotten as far as he had. "Well, that's life. Let's get it back up and go again!"

Sephiroth gave him a tilted look before helping to move the step stool and this time holding it steady as Zack continued to insist on putting up the decorations without both feet on the stool. The youngest Valentine shook his head as he studied the deft movements of his sitter's hands. Most people would've called Zack a bad influence and fired him by now.

Thankfully, Grandpa Grim saw the truth of the boy's character. Contrary to the somber connotation of his nickname, Grimoire Valentine was a gentle and warm man, if a bit odd. He often entrusted his grandson into Zack's care and had a strong bond of trust with the youth. A bond strong enough to invite him over for Christmas Eve, when his own son would be coming home.

In a normal case, the most one had to worry about with such an offer were parents politely declining. In this case, it meant Grim trusted Zack around the deepest of the government's secrets. Sephiroth's father wasn't just an ordinary field agent. He was a handler for the Social Welfare Agency. Most people assumed that meant some zookeeper type position dealing with pet animals for the government based charity organization. The side of the SWA that people didn't know, the side that Sephiroth only heard about because it was where his parents worked, did things nobody talked about outside the grounds. The young Valentine boy had only been there a few times. There were other kids there, a bunch of girls; but his parents told him they were different, not quite normal anymore. Until the time he saw one carrying a gun, he'd assumed they just meant the girls were orphans living at the facility. Now he knew what life was like for Aerith, the girl he'd once viewed as a sister.

Aerith Faremis, daughter of Gast and Ifalna Faremis, had been orphaned at the start of the year. In the same incident that took her parents, she'd been severely wounded herself. With the Valentine family being designated her adoptive next-of-kin, Sephiroth's parents eventually decided the only way to save her was to make her like the other girls at the Agency. And that meant Vincent became her 'handler'.

Part of the process was that Aerith's name was to be changed. Sephiroth was still getting used to her new name, which sounded a lot like her old one Inside he really wondered if the change had been necessary in the first place, but he supposed so long as she was still Aerith inside it was alright. He wanted Zack to meet the girl he viewed as his older sister, the one he'd spent half his life with. It seemed to the Valentine boy that the two would get along well.

"Hey, Sephiroth..." Zack asked, securing the last of the length of tinsel and descending the stool. "What're your parents like, anyway?"

"Strong," Sephiroth answered quietly, folding up the stool and walking it back to its resting place in the closet. "And smart, too."

"Okaaay..." The dark haired boy frowned slightly as he followed his young compatriot. "Are they nice? Do they talk to you a lot?"

Sephiroth shrugged. They weren't really around enough for him to form much of an opinion. He loved them, and assumed they loved him back, but that was probably just because they were his parents. Zack didn't spend much time with his folks either, but that was mostly because he chose to spend his time at the Valentine residence. Sephiroth sometimes wondered what it would be like, to have the luxury of choice.

"Well, they can't be that bad," Zack said confidently to himself. "After all, your Gramps seems like a decent guy. I can't really imagine him raising a brat. And he works for that government charity organization, right? The Social Whatnot Agency? What's he do there?"

"He works with my sister who was in the accident." Hiding the facts didn't seem like much of an issue, particularly since Zack would be meeting them in person.

Zack's sock sheathed feet did a quick shuffle on the wood floor before he regained his balance. "You have a sister?!" he blanched.

Sephiroth gave an exasperated sigh and shook his head. He'd told Zack about his connection to Aerith multiple times. Despite this and even a few reminders from Grandpa Grim, it never really seemed to sink in for the boy.

"...Or do you just call her that and you're not actually related?" Zack guessed again after Sephiroth's silence stretched a few seconds. "Gosh... you could just call her your girlfriend or something. It's so confusing when you—"

"She's _not_ my girlfriend," Sephiroth stated sharply. Even overlooking the five years between him and Aerith, not to mention that he was way too young to be even considering that kind of stuff, he didn't think he'd ever see the girl in a romantic light.

Zack threw up his hands in surrender. "Whoa! I'm only joking here. Do ya always gotta be so serious?"

"Runs in the family, I'm afraid," Grandpa Grim called from the kitchen. "Well, from Vincent's mother's side, anyway."

"Huh," the older boy relaxed into a thinking pose as they rounded into the kitchen to join the older Valentine. Grandpa Grim was at the counter with his back turned towards them, stirring something in a bowl. "Figures," Zack went on. "I guess I just thought he'd be more like you, seeing as you're the only family he really sees mosta the time."

"I'm afraid the bonds of family run stronger than the forces of distance, young Zack," Grim smiled over his shoulder. "Even when separated, there's something keeping us all together. And not just nucleotides and double helixes, but commonness of soul."

Zack looked helplessly at Sephiroth, probably hoping the light haired youth had understood Grim's cryptic comments. Sephiroth simply shrugged. All he knew was that his grandfather was talking about what his father called "metaphysics". Or at least, he suspected it. Most things involving "soul" went into that category and were carefully kept out of any textbook Sephiroth could get his hands on.

"And with the blessings of heaven, sometimes these can be enough to bring together the fractured pieces of a broken whole," Grandpa Grim said as he continued to stir, sounding more like a retired priest than a university professor now. "Especially at this time of year, when the warmth of earth wanes and sunlight becomes scarce, the voice of the eternal can be heard over the din of the ephemeral; calling us to reunion with truth and love."

"Umm... sounds good, Mister Valentine," Zack told the older gentleman, looking away uncomfortably.

Sephiroth couldn't really blame him. Despite the widespread immersion of Catholicism in their society, the supernatural was still something that made people uncomfortable, particularly when you pretended to understand it better than they did. Sephiroth couldn't say whether his grandfather was pretending or not, but part of the boy didn't quite believe it. Maybe it was just that he'd seen enough of life to doubt anything he couldn't see firsthand, especially with what happened to Aerith. The other part of him though, basked in the wonder of the statements, and reveled in the thoughts of a true reunion: him, his father, mother, and Aerith, all together again.

}§{

"If anything comes, don't touch it until I get back," Aria told her roommate, carefully aligning the final bits of her luggage in her suitcase. "And wish Terra and Angelica Buon Natale when they come back, alright?"

"I'll try," Quistis, a blonde girl, answered dryly from her perch on the top bunk. "Assuming I'm back before you, of course. Signore Laguna and I are headed up to a midnight mass in Milan—"

"The Director's letting you go?" Aria asked, slightly bewildered by the sudden leniency. Normally it was understood that the girls were to be kept away from religious convention.

"We're tailing an attending Padania leader," Quistis finished, giving Aria a reproving look for interrupting. "Signore Laguna is a little upset that we have to work on Christmas Eve, but he'll live. How did Signore Vincent get you two time off with all the ruckus going on about those 'Omega' guys?"

"I dunno," Aria shrugged. All her handler had told her was that he'd done all the necessary paperwork for an overnight stay and had a little talk with the director concerning past favors. Really, she was just too overjoyed that she got to spend both Christmas Eve _and_ Christmas day with him to care about the details. Quistis could be so technical sometimes...

"Ah, and Signore Laguna says 'Have a great Christmas! Joy and peace!'" Quistis recited, her voice altering to a more jovial tone in an attempt to imitate her handler.

Aria smiled. The Portuguese man was a bright contrast to many of the other handlers and, much to their chagrin, rather vaguely interpreted the unwritten rule of not interfering with other fratelli. Besides Signore Vincent, Aria probably liked him the best. "Tell him Buon Natale too, for me," she replied, closing her suitcase and heading for the door. "Arrivederci!"

Leaving the small room behind, Aria flipped her mid-length braid over her shoulder and began walking to the parking lot. The tall buildings of the Agency headquarters towered in front of her, stubbornly remaining stark and humorless in spite of the season. Other than the rec room and the front lobby, nothing really got decorated, especially when there was so much else going on.

It didn't matter though, she would be going somewhere special with Signore Vincent. Somewhere close, somewhere happy and warm. He hadn't told her that, but she knew already.

Christmas was something she remembered. Something from before she was a cyborg. It was something magical. Something that made her feel real again.

}§{

"Do you think he'll be glad to see us?" Vincent asked quietly, helping his wife load the car with the essentials they usually kept at the Agency. His question emitted a small puff of visible air into the less-than-hospitable mid-December weather.

"Of course he will, we're his parents," Lucrecia answered, her voice curt and decisive. She brushed back some of her stray brown bangs and examined their current trunk setup. "Where's Aerith going to put her stuff?"

"Aria," Vincent reminded her. Sometimes he wondered if she recognized the difference. "She should be fine. She knows how to pack light."

Lucrecia rolled her eyes and faced him. "She knows how to pack for light for _assignments. _Vacations are an entirely different occasion, dear. Besides,I was thinking about the return journey; she'll have more with her coming back. Or did you think she wasn't getting any presents on Christmas?"

Vincent paused, looking away as he refused to ponder the question. Gift giving had never been his thing. It required an understanding of people that fell outside of his mode of operation and, frankly, there was always that lingering fear that he'd wasted his money on something they didn't need or want. Even at this stage in life, it was something of an unresolved matter that insistently recurred every year before being put to the back of his mind for another few months.

"...There'll be room," he assured her. If worst came to worst he could always leave half of his luggage with his father. Or they could take two cars. But Lucrecia wanted them to all make the commute together, saying it would be better that way.

Why she'd insist on that and then worry about the carrying capacity of a single trunk was beyond him.

Lucrecia did another shuffle of their luggage, yielding a few more square inches in the tiny trunk, and grimaced again. "You're sure?"

"Assuming she doesn't receive an entire wardrobe, then yes."

"And if she does?"

"Then I'm going to have a very long talk with either you or my father on the lost concept of frugality." He didn't try to hide his growing exasperation, exacerbated by the season's weather. Some times he thought he understood Lucrecia, others made him wonder what he'd gotten himself into when he'd said "I do". She was reasonable in most respects, but if she got the wrong idea in her head then conversation could quickly turn into an unwilling argument. Vincent had enough of those with Jean Croce, his superior; taking the problem home for the holidays wasn't something he'd been planning on.

He looked back over at his wife. Her swirling brown eyes dared him to make another comment. He pursed his lips, looking for the right words to defuse the situation. The sort of words that never seemed to come when he needed them.

"Signore Vincent!"

Thankfully, his cyborg chose that particular moment to make an entrance. They both dropped the conflict and looked to the girl they'd nigh on given up their lives to save over the past year. Toting with her a suitcase that seemed at least three-quarters of her size, Aria approached the couple from behind, brunette hair bouncing with a light skip. An open mouthed smile, something of a rarity for her, beamed back at Vincent as she joined the couple by their car.

Slowing to a halt, the girl looked from her handler, to Lucrecia, then back at her handler something a little darker than confusion overshadowing her smile. Suddenly all that tension that had dissipated with her arrival was back.

"Why is Doctor Crescent coming with us?"

The question wasn't accusatory. Not outright, at any rate. But it did hold a slight edge that Vincent was certain Lucrecia detected as well. He'd heard stories about some of the cyborgs forming the semblance of a romantic attachment to their handlers. He'd hoped it was just the support staff poking fun, but with how Aria was acting now...

"She's my wife, remember?" he said, fighting a little to keep his voice controlled. He could've sworn he'd told her that. He'd even told the conditioning technicians to keep it in mind when putting together her mix. Apparently they hadn't been paying attention either.

"...Oh," Aria replied quietly. For a moment they all just stood there dumbly before she shuffled up to the back of the car and squeezed her belongings into the mix of boxes and cases.

Vincent sighed and looked over his cyborg's head at his wife. She had a look he couldn't decipher on as she simply held out her hand and uttered, "keys."

He regarded her for a moment. "No. Explanation," he countered calmly. If one of them could get Aria to understand, it sure wasn't going to be him.

"That's your job, 'mister handler'."

"Maybe so." He shrugged as he skirted around to the driver's side of the car. "But it's your skill set."

Lucrecia fumed, but a quick glance behind confirmed she wasn't going to stand there obstinately in the cold until she got her way. Soon enough, the two Valentines and their young charge were all buckled into the car in various states of disgruntlement and headed out of the SWA main campus on the road back to the normal world.

It took until the Agency was far behind them before Lucrecia finally swallowed the blow to her pride and began attempting to explain to Aria the relational web that had gone undetected. As luck would have it, the Valentine residence lay on the far side of Rome, so they were afforded a good chunk of time to sort things out.

Unfortunately, Lucrecia's mood was currently making her partial to long editorials mostly concerning Vincent's carelessness with vital information, so it was only just by the end of the ride that she was finally getting around to the simple point that she and Vincent belonged to each other.

"But... I belong to Signore Vincent too, don't I?" Aria asked, only accepting the previous statements on a grudging nod from her handler.

"Not in the same way," Lucrecia answered firmly. "You're like a younger sister, or a daughter. You're close, but you aren't his one-and-only."

"And you don't have to be," Vincent butted in, graced with the boldness to speak at the prospect of Aria imminently throttling his wife. "You... you're fine, just the way you are."

An uncomfortable silence settled over them as Vincent pulled into his father's driveway and parked outside the already-occupied single car garage. Nobody moved as the hum of the engine died in memory and the cold began to creep in the absence of the heater running. Vincent suspected he'd said something wrong, as usual, but he also suspected himself to be paranoid, so he wasn't going to be getting anywhere fast thinking like that.

What he knew for certain was that even if he had driven here alone and hadn't just been through a potentially lethal conflict of interests, he would still be sitting in the car trying to think of how to set foot in the sanctuary of his father's house after all that had happened throughout the year.

How to approach innocence again after his last set of sins.

Not that he'd been Mr. Perfect in the preceding years. Before his work as a handler, he'd been a field agent for Public Safety Section 1. Investigative work, although far less incriminating than training child assassins, still had it's fair share of grime to add to his morality. Every year it was harder to come back.

Finally, this time it felt like he'd crossed the threshold. He'd only had her kill three people so far, two thugs in the recent warehouse raid and a Padania grunt on some other mission. But three lives were still three stains of blood he'd put on her hands, rather than his own. He understood being accountable for his own actions, for his own sins. Being accountable for hers though...

"Are we going inside?" The question rose tentatively from the back seat.

Vincent fingered the release for his seatbelt but let go before enough pressure had been exerted to activate the mechanism.

"Aria." A gruff tinge snuck into his tone as he addressed his cyborg. Her magitek enhancements made her slightly less impressionable than some of his peers, but he still had to choose his words carefully around her. "There's a boy in this house who knows you. His name is Sephiroth."

He paused. Aria stared back in complete attention, her only vital sign being an occasional blink. Suppressing a grimace, he pushed forward.

"He... might call you Aerith."

"Like the girl from my dream?"

An involuntarily sharp intake of air passed through his lungs. "Yes. Like the girl from your dream. I want you to be kind to him. And whatever you do, you must remember not to talk about missions or guns or death or pain. Don't do anything violent, do not use force on _anyone_. Here is a safe place where all that isn't allowed. You understand?"

"..."

"Aria, do you understand?"

"Yes, Signore Vincent."

"Good. Now let's—"

He was interrupted by a sharp rap on the window and his door opening from the outside.

"Vincent!" He was caught in an awkward standing-to-sitting embrace before being dragged out of the car by his ear.

His father's hand drifted from his ear to his shoulder as the older man led him steadily towards the house. "How long do you intend to make little Sephiroth wait? Come in!"

Throwing a glance over his shoulder, Vincent saw Aria outside of the car and almost at his side before his gaze corralled her pace and she looked away. Lucrecia too had exited and was following with a weary smile as they passed out of the cold and into his father's dwelling.

**~Author's Notes:~**

12/24/13: The rest of this story should be soon to follow, but if it is not know that more is indeed to come. Thanks for reading!

-CG

**On translations (from Italian):**

_Buon Natale_: Merry Christmas

_Arrivederci_: See you later

_Signore_: An Italian honorific similar to Mister(Mr.). Used here by the cyborgs to show deference to their handlers.

_Reunione dei Giorni_: Reunion of days

**On the setting:**

Gunslinger Girl (GsG) by Yu Aida takes place in Italy. Dual Trigger is a fan made adaption that integrates altered characters from Final Fantasy into the tale. This story is set in late 2004, the year the GsG anime began airing.

This particular interpretation of Vincent/Lucrecia is heavily influenced by FullMentalPanic's "Valentines", a detailed and wonderfully written fic that is recommended to **any** curious readers wishing to know more on the subject.

**On in universe terminology and relations:**

1: **The Social Welfare Agency(SWA)**. This is the "front" name of the Italian Government's Public Safety Bureau, Section 2. On the outside, they're a charity organization meant for aiding those in critical medical need, particularly children. On the inside, they're a counter terrorism branch that utilizes formerly terminal young girls remade as cyborgs to hunt down their targets in situations where the law is an obstruction. Their main target has been the Padania "Five Republics Faction" movement, but they'll tangle with other threats when the need arises.

2: **Fratelli(Singular: Fratello)**. Each of the cyborgs at the SWA is assigned an adult who watches after and trains them. These men are known as handlers. Together, cyborg and handler are known as a fratello (siblings, in Italian). The fratelli are the main strong arm of the SWA, and often take the brunt of the workload so far as field jobs are concerned. Since handlers are granted virtual free reign with the training and discipline of their cyborg, there is a broad range of dynamics between the various fratelli. Vincent and Aria, the featured fratello for this story, is unique in that Vincent has a surviving family outside the agency that he is in regular contact with, dividing his attention to his cyborg.

3: **The Padania Movement**. One of the main enemies of the SWA, this organization seeks to secede Northern Italy from the rest of the nation. They are willing to resort to terrorism to achieve this goal. However, not all of its members are violent, irrational radicals. At its heart, they all simply share a discontent with the Italian government and wish to start anew. Sadly though, these idealistic words are often overshadowed by their grim deeds; leaving reason an early casualty of the conflict.

4: **The Omega Faction**. This group seems to be making a clandestine bid for the SWA's attention, starting with the abduction and subsequent murder of an SWA doctor named Gast Faremis, Aerith's father. Little is known about their activities, and as they press closer to the SWA more questions arise concerning their motives. What is known it that they mean business, and they mean it in a very bad way.


	2. You Are Not Alone

**Dual Trigger**

-By Chronic Guardian-

Reunione dei Giorni: Valentine, Chapter 2

"Really, Vincent, sometimes you can be such a laggard!" The older man chuckled while ruffling Signore Vincent's hair. Again, Aria willfully restrained herself from taking defensive action on behalf of her handler. After watching him be forcefully brought to the house, she'd mentally reinforced his orders of peace before walking inside herself and being promptly confronted with another scene of irreverence.

Every fiber of her being screamed to tackle the older man and enforce discipline upon him. Were it not for her just barely heedable logistical processes reminding her that Signore Vincent didn't want it that way, she would've done it in a heartbeat.

Behind her, Dr. Crescent, or _Mrs._ Valentine as they had established on the ride over, shuffled inside and closed the door. Aria twitched as the bolt clicked. She could easily break it down in an emergency, but it would still present an unnecessary barrier in the event that they needed to exit quickly. Behind any one of these doors could be—

_No._ She mentally stopped herself. This was a safe place. A place without guns or violence or death.

A place without room for any of the things that made up her world.

Aria was quickly beginning to wonder whether or not she'd rather still be out on a mission instead of "vacationing".

"Zack, keep the girl company will you?" the old man who had pulled Vincent out of the car called out as they left the entryway and headed deeper into the house. "Sephiroth and I've got a few things to talk about with these two."

"No problem, Mister Valentine!" someone replied from the next room over. "Just let me—whoops!"

A crash followed almost immediately..

"Aria," Vincent pronounced, giving a nod towards the noise.

She returned the nod and silently approached the scene, reluctantly leaving him to investigate.

Upon entering the room, a kitchen by the looks of it, she found a raven haired boy sprawled on the floor, surrounded by spilt flour, gingerly rubbing his head.

"Gotta stop doing that," he moaned softly as he slowly collected himself up to a crouch and dusted himself off. "There's no way it's good for—oh! Hey there." He grinned at her and thrust a hand forward. "Sephiroth's sister, right? I'm Zack."

She regarded him, deciding after a moment that he presented a minimal threat despite being abrupt.

His grin faded as he slowly looked between his extended hand and hers, still at her sides. "Umm.."

"Oh." This was probably his version of an introduction. She hurriedly took his hand and shook it as she'd seen Vincent do when interacting with a branch agent for the first time. None of them had ever offered a shake to a cyborg before, but she figured Zack didn't know any better. "Aria. It's a pleasure to meet you. Who's Sephiroth?"

Zack quickly withdrew his hand from the shake and flicked it twice, wincing with the motion. "Yikes. That's a strong grip you've got th—wait a minute. You don't remember Sephiroth?"

She shook her head, "No."

Then she remembered what Vincent had said about a boy who knew her here, and quickly tried nodding instead. "Yes! Yes, I do... I think."

"Uh huh..." Zack nodded slowly as his dark eyebrows descended into a suspicious squint. "Well... you wanna give me a hand with these?" He waved his hand towards the counter where a pan of layered pastry was accompanied by what appeared to be tin stencils. An upturned stool lay pointing towards them, hinting towards the reason for the earlier crash.

"What are they?"

"Cookies," Zack said, walking over to the pan and pressing one of the stencils in. "They aren't really traditional here, but Mr. Valentine said they'd be fun to make at least once."

She gave him a tilted look. "Mister Valentine?"

"Y'know, Grim," Zack responded, waving a hand in the air as if trying to waft in the nonexistent memory. "Vincent's dad? He's a little old, but he's still nice."

So that's who the man was...

"Anyway," the boy continued. "Cookies?"

Aria approached the pan and noted an open cookbook depicting the same baked goods cut into squares. She'd never tried any cooking down at the Agency. Tasting the other girl's attempts had effectively dissuaded her from line of thought. Besides Claes, none of them were really any good at it.

"I'll watch," she told him, resetting the fallen stool to the side and taking a seat.

"You serious?" Zack's vibrant blue eyes gave her that odd look again. "C'mon, it's not hard."

He placed one of the tin stencils in her hand, then pressed it into the chocolate topped treat in the pan, producing the outline of a winged figure. Plucking the cutout from the rest of the material, he placed it on a platter, losing a little along the way, and repeated the process, again placing his hands on top of hers to guide them back towards the pan.

"You got it?"

She experimentally wiggled the cookie cutter and extracted the resulting shape. Despite the slightly crumbling edges, it looked close enough to the one Zack had done. She nodded to herself, satisfied.

"See? There you go!" Zack beamed at her and picked up his own stencil as they proceeded to carve out shapes from the rest of the tray.

When they had finished, the had a full platter of the cutouts in varying states of completeness and a collection of leftover bits strewn about the pan.

"What do we do with these?" Aria asked after trying unsuccessfully to form the scraps into something presentable.

Her companion smiled secretively as he collected residual globs by running his fingers along the edges of the pan. "These we get to eat now," he told her, handing over the results of his scavenging. "Try it. Mister Valentine's an expert at making this kinda stuff."

Aria eyed the lump of chocolate and peanut buttery confection before again reminding herself that this was a safe place and reluctantly putting it into her mouth.

The food dissolved on her tongue the moment it left her fingers. A swirl of flavors, savory, salty, and sweet, danced across her taste buds before leaving a lingering taste that was a mere shadow of the original. Immediately, she reached for more.

"Good, huh?" Zack said, claiming some of the leftovers as his own.

"Ummfgh," Aria responded. Blushing, she swallowed down the mouthful and tried again. "...Yes."

Zack laughed, loud, clear laughter.

And even though she didn't see why it was funny, Aria smiled and laughed as well.

}§{

Vincent clutched the arms of the chair in his father's study as images of an unchecked Aria played through his mind. He'd met the Fair's child, Zack, once or twice in passing, and he seemed a decent enough boy. Vincent just hoped Aria would be able to keep her combat senses under control in case the child decided to play a prank of some sort. The conditioning played some fine lines when it came to orders, or so he had heard. The cyborgs could probably stay up for days on end without food or water if their handler ordered it, but under particular odd conditions they were also known to bypass that loyalty and go straight for the kill.

In his heart he prayed that Zack was still as innocent as he had seemed.

Beside him, Lucrecia squeezed his forearm and tried to smile reassuringly. "Dear?"

"...Mmm?" he mumbled, snapping out of his trance.

She shifted her eyes meaningfully across the coffee table to where his son and father sat. Following her gaze with his face, he raised his eyebrows and waited for a further prompt.

"What's Aerith like now?" Sephiroth repeated, his intense turquoise eyes studying Vincent's crimson brown ones. "You said she'd be different."

Yes, indeed he had said that. It had been meant as a vague blanketing statement, but he should have known his son would want details. Although Sephiroth primarily took after him in personality, that didn't mean the boy lacked his mother's inquisitive nature.

Vincent cleared his throat then paused, trying to think of how to explain the situation.

"She... doesn't remember much," he began. It was a good place to start. "Sometimes she—"

"Does she remember me?"

Vincent sighed. He should've known that would be the first question to follow. "No. She barely remembers herself."

"Do you think I can help her remember?"

"You don't want to help her remember," Vincent told his son flatly. "The girl you know died in the accident. From here on out, it's best we just accept who she is now, who she's become."

"Who you've made her to be?" Lucrecia finished, her tone taking a slight dip with the words.

Vincent worked down a grimace. Not a bad description at all...

"Yeah... that."

"I see then," his father nodded slowly and steepled his fingers. "So that's what's been bothering you."

Were it not his father who said it, Vincent would've been wearing one of his famous death glares by now. However, if only because of that, he pushed down his instinctive response and simply used the same approach he'd used on his son: zero tolerance.

"No, you don't see," he told his father, forcing himself to stare into the man's serene eyes. "Agency protocol forbids an exact explanation, but what we're dealing with here is bigger than—"

The warm chuckle that interrupted his lecture was hardly the response he'd been hoping for.

"Do you really take me for that much of a fool, my son?"

He grunted. "If you keep trying to just laugh off what's been done? Then yes, absolutely."

His father waved it off and smiled. "No. Listen to me Vincent. I've had my taste of the world and its ways. Perhaps I don't skulk in its shadows anymore, but I understand well enough what hides there. Whatever it is you've done to save her, I imagine it came at a great price. For even though I'd like to believe our government is doing things simply for the good of its people, I'm old enough to know it doesn't work that way. Everything has a price, something that must be exchanged, especially in natural affairs. I know, with all the bureaucracy and man made walls we want to say that we're beyond the natural order. But you and I both know that's false. Charity comes not from the rule of law, but from the fruit of the spirit; matters in which the state cannot meddle. For them, the shadow of miracles can only be obtained at great cost. And you believe them. So in exchange for saving Aerith, you think you've turned her into a monster."

Stopping there, the old man took a sip of coffee and smiled again, allowing Vincent to soak in his words.

"...Haven't I?" Vincent responded after a moment. He thought he understood what his father meant, but one could never be too sure with the odd ways of Grimoire Valentine. The man was fond of things like half-truths and false implications, often turning ordinary conversations into philosophical gauntlets.

It was always exasperating, but somehow it had always proven helpful up to this point.

"Not yet," Grim answered, a sly grin squinting his eyes ever so slightly.

"How do you...?"

"Monsters aren't allowed here."

Vincent regarded his father warily, wondering if the lighthearted return was meant to be a joke or another estranged metaphor.

"Grandpa?" Sephiroth asked, breaking into the slowly stretching silence.

The older man stirred before looking down at the boy, curiosity dancing in his eyes. "Yes, young Sephiroth?"

"Why would Aerith be a monster?"

Grim shrugged. "I can only postulate, given Vincent's dutiful silence, but—"

"What does postulate mean?"

Vincent put two fingers to his forehead and massaged it gently. It was enough that his father had to be long-winded with him, but with his seven year old son? Again, making things more difficult than they needed to be.

"To postulate is simply to guess," Grim explained, not breaking stride with his voice. "At any rate, I would think that something happened to Aerith to allow her to survive the tragedy. Perhaps they somehow locked away all the sad memories that happened to her that night. Modern science, despite being far short of a panacea, is still rather impressive these days. But then, with her memories gone, she would become empty. And where there is emptiness, darkness is prone to follow."

"Then we'll just have to fill her up with better memories," Sephiroth finished curtly, nodding to himself in approval of the idea.

Grim beamed. "Exactly, m'boy!"

Trying with partial success to suppress a grunt at the fanciful remarks in the face of such a serious subject, Vincent glared at his father. The words were nice, yes, but they only partially matched up and making it vague for Sephiroth's sake hadn't helped any. Now wasn't the time to be making fluffy generalizations, it was a time for answers, for knowing exactly why his father believed Aerith would be okay. Because even though Vincent hated the eloquent words of his father, he knew he also wanted to believe them.

Still, he wouldn't be getting any straight answers if his father felt they needed to be gentle for Sephiroth's sake.

"Sephiroth," he addressed his son while keeping his eyes on his father. "Go check on Aria."

Beside him, Lucrecia stirred. He should have known she would. All this time apart and now he was sending away their child from his promised reunion. "Vincent..."

He sighed. Now that he thought about it, he shouldn't be dragging her in either. "I'm sorry," he told them quietly. "I need to talk to my father alone. Would you two mind...?"

"Don't you dare take too long," Lucrecia muttered, getting up from her chair. "Otherwise you'll be taking this Christmas dry."

Vincent afforded her an incredulous glance. It wasn't much of a threat. Vincent didn't indulge in many pleasures, he'd consciously directed himself to not depend upon them. Besides, it wasn't like he was ever trying to get drunk. Being bereft of his traditional glass of red wine would only be marginally more gloomy.

"Perhaps Lucrecia too has learned the art of metaphor," Grim chuckled from across the way as he and Vincent became alone in the room. "Does she often allow you to believe your own lies?"

Vincent felt his fingers tighten again. "...What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Grim continued to smile and shake his head. "You are a paragon of moderation in most respects, my son, but in pity and guilt you indulge yourself. Perhaps Lucrecia is right to deny you the false balm you feed yourself."

"... Which when said plainly means?"

His father sighed and leaned forward, resting his chin on folded hands. While looking off into the far wall, he spoke. "You blame yourself, don't you? You never drink enough to block it out all the way, I know, you share my tolerance; but the pain is becoming unbearable. And yet, the true medicine, the support of your family, you deny yourself."

"What do I blame myself for?"

Grim's expression clouded slightly as he shrugged his mantled shoulders. "Many things. You were born to be a guardian, my son. There are many things you can't change, but still feel responsible for. And I think Aerith has become one of them."

"And why shouldn't she be my responsibility?" Vincent said the words calmly, but both of them felt the hidden venom drawn to the surface. His father's forehead creased, the first sign of worry he'd shown since the arrival.

Then Grim used a voice Vincent had never heard him use before. A voice that was solid and serious. "Because, Vincent," he replied slowly, "you're treating her as a tragedy before her final curtain falls. Her story may be sad, but don't you believe for a moment that it's over. And, I though can't say I enjoy old Hemingway, he spoke true that the sun also rises."

Vincent remained frozen, now transfixed by his suddenly determined father who seemed for once to live up to his name.

"Let us simply leave it at this, my son," Grim sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back into his seat. "One may easily fall into hell by himself, doing nothing and not feel a thing until the numbing cold gives way to flame. But the sting of waking up and clawing one's way out before that moment, climbing out of the depths and returning to the light we were meant for, such a thing cannot be accomplished on one man's strength alone.

"But take heart, Vincent. For you are not alone."

"And if I cause another to fall to hell with me?"

His father's eyes opened.

"Then don't forget that you are only one man against a grand mechanism capable of saving them. At times, my son, there is yet cause to rejoice in the frailty of the deeds of man."

At a loss for words, Vincent simply nodded and drank the coffee his father had brewed.

}§{

Despite himself and his increasing age, Sephiroth Valentine was still a very tactile child. He loved the warm, soft feel of his mother's hand as he guided her out of the study and down the hall to where the kitchen looked over the living room. He'd missed holding her hand over the past year. When he'd first turned seven, he'd been flooded with self-important thoughts about how big he'd grown and how the ways of his childhood were behind him. Now he didn't care what Zack might say, he wanted to hold again the hand that had guided him in his earliest days.

Squeezing gently, he smiled up at her. But only for a moment before again looking vigilantly down the hall.

She had a far off look in her eyes, a look he'd mostly seen right after Aerith's parents died. He understood it as worry, but he didn't quite get the reason for it. After all, she was home now, with him and father and Grandpa Grim. What could go wrong now?

As they neared the kitchen, laughter erupted and was subsequently amplified by the surrounding hardwood floors. Sephiroth raised a quizzical eyebrow and proceeded cautiously.

Zack and Aerith, as it turned out, had taken to cutting out the toffy squares. What could possibly be funny about cutting the bar cookies was beyond Sephiroth until he caught sight of the tray filled not with squares but crumbling cutouts of various shapes. _That idiot..._ Sighing to himself, the Valentine boy released his mother's hand and marched over to take a firm hold on Zack's arm.

"H-Hey! Sephiroth!" Zack grinned and tousled his ash blonde hair. "So you done talking with your parents?"

Sephiroth ignored the banter and pointed emphatically at the tray. "Zack, what are these?"

"Cookies! Remember? We were going to make some with cookie cutters today. Aren't they awesome?"

"These are toffy _squares_," Sephiroth reproved stoically. "The cookie cutters were meant for the gingerbread. Toffy wasn't made for cookie cutters, it doesn't stick together right. Look," he held up one of the misshapen toffy forms. "You end up with one-winged angels."

Zack did a double take. "Whoa... seriously?"

Behind him, his mother gave a soft chuckle. "Sephiroth is always serious, isn't he?" she asked coming up to stand beside her son. "It's alright though. We'll make do with what we have. Sephiroth, dear? Do you know where the gingerbread dough is?"

Sephiroth nodded.

"...And would you mind bringing it out?"

He pursed his lips. "You should clear the counter first," he stated. Grandpa Grim didn't mind, but it bugged Sephiroth when the kitchen got messy during prolonged use.

"Even more cookies?" Zack beamed. "Man, today just keeps getting better!"

Beside him, Aerith gave a small smile and nodded.

Sephiroth paused to look at her, this being the first real opportunity now that they'd resolved the matter of the toffy squares. To his eyes, she didn't look very different. She still had the same curtained bangs, the same long, rope-braid, and the same curious green eyes. If anything, her smile seemed brighter now than it had before.

But there was one easy way to tell.

After months of being relentlessly tickled for Aerith's enjoyment, Sephiroth had learned that his sister had an equally vulnerable spot just at the middle of her spine. He'd been so enamoured with the revelation that he'd immediately tried it out on others... and found that it didn't work the same on them.

If this girl was still Aerith, she'd react to the spot.

Of course, he couldn't just walk up and try it now. Now she was looking at him. It had to be a surprise for it to work right. So as they cleared the counter, Sephiroth did his best to inconspicuously glance at her for an opening. Unfortunately, she seemed to have caught on and continued to monitor his movements. It wasn't until they'd gotten out the Gingerbread dough and begun cutting out shapes that her attention drifted over to Zack instead.

Then was the moment to strike.

Aerith would invariably swipe back once the initial shock wore off so he would have to be fast. A quick jab of dancing fingers and a hasty retreat. In the back of his mind it occurred to him that this could be awkward in the case that it _wasn't_ Aerith, but he quickly shook it off on the count that he simply had to know whether or not this girl was still his sister.

It would only take an instant later to know, so he assured himself it would be worth it.

Drawing back his arm slightly and just barely wiggling his fingers in preparation, he darted into the motion.

}§{

**~Author's Notes:~**

Grim Valentine is now officially my favorite character to write. Again, this iteration is heavily influenced by his appearance "Valentines" since original sighting of Mr. Valentine senior are limited to a handful of cutscenes in the Dirge of Cerberus storyline. The real trick now is to show that he still isn't perfect.

Writing young/non-evil Sephiroth is a weird experience. Given the severe altering of the circumstances I think I've pitted myself against the age old developmental question of "Nature vs. Nurture" with the verdict still pending.. Also, fans will note that Sephiroth's hair color is given as ash blonde in this chapter. This was done not only because silver is a stretch for a seven year old, but because it's the lightest color I can see coming out of Vincent and Lucrecia's gene pool. That said, how the heck he retained his signature "mako" eyes is beyond me, so don't ask.

**On Cookies:**

This is a difficult subject to approach, particularly since I'm no expert in international traditions. However, because cookie cutters were integral in my vision for the scene, Biscotti was out of the question and most distinctly Italian delights soon followed it. In my defence, Gingerbread is purportedly German, right? Plus, there's always my impervious shield of Grim Valentine just being plain eclectic. Thanks Grim *high fives*.


End file.
